


Birthday

by greekowl87



Series: Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, MSR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 11:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greekowl87/pseuds/greekowl87
Summary: For the Tumblr prompts 'Have you ever lied to me?’ and  'This is where you impress me, right?’





	Birthday

When they bought the unremarkable house after being on the run for three years, it was a chance for them to settle, put down some real roots. Mulder had always fantasized about settling down into a little place like this out in the middle of nowhere; he remembered telling as much to Scully during the Peacock brothers’ case. But this was different. He had Scully now (and still!) with him and this was _their_  home. _Their home_. It seemed so surreal.

They had called various motel beds theirs but this was different. The old farmhouse came with a hodge-podge of furniture but she resolutely determined that at least one purchase that needed to make was a new bed, their bed. And like a normal couple, they went to a local discount furniture store, picked out a bed and a new mattress, deciding in the spur of a moment to get matching night stands while Mulder’s fugitive status was left somewhere else across the country and momentarily forgotten. Scully drove to an old storage unit outside of Baltimore that her mother had up kept and taken out his old fish tank, knick knacks, and pictures. They even went to the local pet store and picked out new fish.

Scully found a new job at a hospital some distance away in Washington D.C. where she could freely return to medicine and keep up some normal semblance of a regular person. Mulder stayed home, relishing in the short times they were together. She worked long hours and the commute was hell too. But, in the first six months, they somehow made it work. Mulder would wake up an hour early before she left to have coffee with her in the mornings or stay up late to draw her baths, give welcomed foot massages, heat frozen dinners. On those rare days off, they would just spend it together, watching bad movies and cuddle on the couch.

Mulder wanted it so badly to work between them. He owed Scully everything while he felt like the world’s sorriest son of a bitch to quote Big Brother Bill for ruining her life. When she was gone, he tried to make himself useful around the house. He was a handyman, maid, and cook. He thought he made Scully a pretty good housewife.

One February though, he had been watching too many cooking shoes and decided to do an elaborate stuffed chicken and pasta dish. He even ventured up to the good, chain grocery store and picked up two bottles of expensive white wine. She had said that morning that would be home early but now his insecurities were gnawing at him. What if she finally decided to be rid of him? By nine, the meal had gone cold and was put away in the fridge. He contemplated drinking one of the bottles of wine himself and passing out on the couch in his office. But then he heard her car in the drive way.

Mulder took a deep breath, trying to compose himself and not let his disappointment show as he walked out into the living room to greet her. Scully stumbled in, clearly exhausted. Bags were under her blue eyes and she uncharacteristically threw her coat, gloves, and briefcase across the room. She collapsed on their living room couch and uselessly toed off her heeled boots. “Everything okay, Scully?” he asked softly, moving to pick up her discarded articles of clothing.

“Hm.” She was only capable of grunts at this point as she pinched the bridge of her nose to relieve a building tension headache. “Tired.”

“You usually call when you’re running late,” he said neutrally. He kept standing across the room, his arms crossed. “I thought something happened.”

“A late surgery,” she mumbled. She sat up and looked at him sadly. “Dinner.”

“You’re birthday dinner. Happy birthday, Scully.”

Scully looked dazed as she did the mental calculation. “So it is. But you never remember my birthday, Mulder.”

“I told you I remember them like dog years. Makes you younger.” He shifted uncomfortably. The guilt and insecurity were overwhelming now. “Have you ever lied to me, Scully?”

“About what, Mulder?” She looked at him like he had grown an extra head. He was quiet and looked down at his feet and then out the door as if looking for an escape. He was withdrawing into himself. She patted the couch and held out her hand. “Mulder.”

So much meaning carried in just saying his name. He wordlessly came to her side, taking her outstretched hand. Like two vines, they curled around each other, this time Mulder resting his head across her breast, listening to her heart as she kissed him soothingly and rubbed his arms. “Don’t you ever be sorry, Mulder. For anything.”

They sat quietly together, unspoken words and gestures communicating volumes. He closed his eyes, thankful for such an amazing woman in his life despite everything. “I made you dinner. Some fancy chicken and pasta dish I saw on PBS,” he whispered finally, “and got you some really good wine.”

“My Mulder. Housewife. I bet it will reheat well,” she teased. “This is where you impress me, right?”

“Trying?”

“Succeeded.” She sighed, continuing her leisurely kisses. “The reason why I was working late is so I can have two days off in a row. Just us. No hospital. No mom. Just us.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered into her jacket.

“You do, Mulder,” she whispered soothingly. “You deserve a happy ending. We both do.”

He hugged her tighter. “I love you, Scully.”

“I love you too, Mulder.” She stroked his long hair. “Did you at least get me anything for my birthday?”

He looked up and smiled. He drew a small wrapped package from behind the couch. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

She tore the small package open and chuckled happily, seeing the picture the seller had snapped of them the day they bought the house. Mulder had his arm wrapped around her shoulder, stealing a kiss, as she laughed in front of the unremarkable house, caught mid frame. He sat up slightly and nuzzled her neck. “Yes?”

“Yes,” she said in silent affirmation. “Thank you, Mulder. And for the record, you have nothing to prove. But I want that on my nightstand.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He kissed her cheek softly. “I just set the bar higher for next year. What do you say we take one of those bottles of wine to bed with us?”

“I was thinking the bath first.”

He nipped her neck teasingly and murmured, “I like the way you think.”


End file.
